


The First Step

by Vanilla_Owns_Chocolate



Series: Moving Forward [3]
Category: Don't Hug Me I'm Scared (Webseries)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Post-Canon, Trauma, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, poor red guy has no idea he needs help
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-08-23 15:35:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16621697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vanilla_Owns_Chocolate/pseuds/Vanilla_Owns_Chocolate
Summary: Duck Guy makes a suggestion. Red Guy has doubts.





	The First Step

“Something’s wrong.”

The statement was matter-of-fact and to-the-point, which was unusual for Duck. Red turned around, still holding the sizzling pan over the stove, and looked his friend in the eye. “What makes you say that?”

Duck shrugged, staring up at Red with curious eyes that somehow seemed to know everything already. “Oh, I don’t know. Just a feeling, I suppose.”

Red nodded vaguely and turned back to his work, relishing the sweet aroma of pancakes as it wafted through their little kitchen. It was his day off, and he intended to surprise his friends by making them breakfast. Yellow slept in, as he always did on weekends, so it was just him and Duck, alone together in the early hours of the morning, the sun slowly rising over the horizon.

“I say,” Duck suddenly exclaimed, “how have you been holding up lately, old chap? I feel as if we’ve been burdening you with our problems recently.”

Red nearly dropped the pancake he was in the middle of flipping, though he was still able to maintain his calm exterior. “Oh, no. It’s no trouble, really.”

Duck drummed his feathery fingers on the tabletop, his brows narrowed in concentration. “Are you sure? You were affected by...June 19th as much as we were, you know.”

Red sighed. He had been trying to avoid explicitly bringing up the incident for a while, but Duck had never been good at reading social cues (then again, Red was kind of at fault for this, given his stoic nature).

“I escaped first. I’m fine.” And he was, mostly. Yeah, it bothered him every now and then, but he was used to ignoring things like that. He had been a naturally dismissive person since he was a kid. He could handle a few nightmares or a little discomfort sometimes, especially when it paled in comparison to what his friends were going through. “And I don’t mind looking after you. You need it.”

Silence hung between them like a thick cloud, broken only by the dull hissing of the pan. Occasionally, Duck would look out the window, pretending to be distracted by the sunrise. Yellow liked sunrises the most. He would always point out all the colors he could see. Before June 19th, he liked to paint pictures of the sun as it hung in the distance, tinting the sky in various shades of orange. Now, he couldn’t even look at a paintbrush without cowering in fear.

“You know, I’ve been thinking,” Duck finally said, as if it was a major revelation, “and I think what we really need is some professional help. All three of us.”

Red stopped just as he was about to put the pancake on a plate with the others. “You mean like...therapy?”

“Indeed!”

“And...what brought you to this conclusion?”

Duck, looking extremely pleased with himself, said, “Well, I’ve been doing a lot of reading on this sort of thing. I’ve always been interested in it. You remember our university days?”

Behind his mop of shaggy hair, Red smiled. Duck had studied psychology when they were in uni together, though he wasn’t very good at it. He took most of his advice from self-help books instead of the actual school textbooks that they were supposed to use. Come to think of it, he had seen a lot of self-help books in Duck’s bookshelf lately.

“I thought you gave all that up?”

Duck shook his head emphatically. “Of course not! You never know when that stuff can come in handy, and we need it now more than ever, don’t we?”

Red shook his head, bringing the pancakes over to the table and setting them down. He didn’t doubt for a second that therapy would be good for Yellow and Duck, but for him? No, he wasn’t nearly as deserving as them.

“If you say so,” he responded, “but I don’t really think I need it. I’m fine.”

Duck raised his fluffy little eyebrows. “No offense, friend, but I highly doubt that. Considering the effect that such physical and psychological tortures would have on any sane being for such a prolonged period of time, it’s only logical to conclude-”

Red held up a hand to stop him. “I wasn’t ‘tortured.’ I was hurt, but I escaped, and now I’m okay.”

“Not tortured?!” Duck nearly dropped the fork he was using to reach for a pancake. “We had all of our bloody flesh melted away, Red! If that’s not torture, I don’t know what is.”

“Well, yeah, but…” Red hesitated as he reached for his own breakfast, momentarily lost in thought. True, he still had nightmares about the simulation, but they weren’t _that_ bad, right? And yeah, he tried to avoid looking at the calendar or using any kind of technology that reminded him too much of that goddamn computer, but he was okay overall, wasn’t he? “...I just don’t know if I’m ready yet. That’s all.”

Duck sighed. “Well, I can’t force you to be ready, I suppose.”

More awkward silence fell upon the kitchen. Red tried to distract himself by staring at the syrup as it dribbled down the soft, fluffy pancakes. It would most likely get stuck in his hair, but that was what showers were for.

“Red?”

“Yes?”

“You’ve been pouring syrup on your pancakes for nearly two whole minutes.”

Red blinked. Oh. His breakfast was now completely flooded in maple syrup, and the bottle he had been holding was considerably lighter in his hand. He must have zoned out. He’d been doing that a lot lately.

“Oops. Sorry.” He handed the bottle back to his friend and poked at his food with his fork. Duck continued to stare at him, unsatisfied.

“Are you sure you’re okay, mate?” he asked, concern lacing his voice. “I know you don’t like to talk about how you feel, but-”

“That’s right, I don’t,” Red snapped, his tone somehow even more deadpan than usual. “So stop asking.”

Duck shut his beak, hurt. Red avoided his gaze, partially out of shame and partially out of the desire for peace and quiet. He loved Duck, he really did, but he was not in the mood to relive June 19th so early in the morning.

The light padding of bare feet on linoleum caused the two to look up. Yellow stood in the doorway, yawning and rubbing his eyes. His blue hair, a bit longer than it had been all those months ago, was a mess. Duck would probably fix it later, but for now he didn’t seem to mind.

“G’morning,” Yellow slurred, still a bit sleepy. “Pancakes?”

Duck smiled at him warmly. “Yes, your favorite. Red made sure to put chocolate chips in yours, since you love them so much.” He looked over at Red, gesturing to Yellow with his head.

“Um...yes. You can have as much as you want.”

There was only one chocolate chip pancake, of course. Yellow still wasn’t ready to eat more than one without feeling sick. It was a miracle for him to even finish the whole thing. Duck insisted on taking him to the doctor, but the detailed medical charts would often make things worse. Red could understand that. He couldn’t even look at cartoon skeletons without being reminded of rot and decay.

Today seemed like it was a good day for Yellow, however, as he hesitated for less than five seconds before grabbing the syrup. Usually, it took him at least seven.

“Did you guys see the sun?” he asked. “It was really pretty today.”

“You say that every day,” Duck remarked with a small chuckle.

“Oh.” Yellow paused for a moment. “Well, then, I guess every day is pretty.”

“That’s a positive way of thinking!” Duck encouraged, ruffling his messy blue hair and then fixing it immediately afterwards. Red observed them with mild amusement.

“What are we gonna do today?” Yellow said with his mouth full. Just because he didn’t eat much didn’t mean he ate politely.

Duck shrugged. “Whatever we want!” He continued fussing with Yellow’s hair. It had been getting so much longer lately. When was the last time that had happened? Red couldn’t recall ever seeing Yellow age in the simulation, and life before then seemed like a blur. In fact, now that his hair was growing out, he looked kind of like-

No. Red shook the nasty thought out of his head (or tried to; it stubbornly stayed right where it was). Yellow was nothing like his father. He felt ashamed for even considering such a thing. They were bound to resemble each other, being related and all, but they weren’t alike. He refused to believe that they were alike.

Still…

“I think a haircut might do you some good,” Red murmured without even thinking. Duck, who had also been struck by the sudden realization that Yellow’s longer hair was a bit _too_ familiar, grimaced slightly.

“Yes, um...it is getting rather long, isn’t it? A trim would be nice.”

Yellow looked up at him in confusion. “Why?”

Red and Duck exchanged glances that were lost on Yellow. Neither of them wanted to tell him the real reason why his hair was so concerning, but the task eventually landed on Red, as Yellow ended up looking at him for answers.

“Well...everybody gets haircuts. That’s just how it is.”

Yellow didn’t seem satisfied with this answer. “Aww,” he pouted, “I don’t want a haircut.”

Red felt a pang of guilt in his heart and sighed. It was wrong of him to force Yellow to do something he didn’t want to do, especially at the cost of his appearance. He was being ridiculous; if Yellow wanted long hair, he could keep his long hair. Roy was gone. There was nothing to be afraid of anymore.

Duck appeared to be following his train of thought and decided to change the subject. “Say, Yellow, Red and I were just talking, and…”

Dammit. Just when he thought this conversation was over. Red tried to look as uninvolved as possible.

“I think,” Duck continued, “that we could all use some help, if you know what I mean.”

Yellow glanced up from his food, confused. “Help?”

“Yes. Nothing too serious, just...someone to talk to, understand?”

“But I talk to you guys every day.”

“That’s true, but…” Duck’s eyes searched Red’s pleadingly, asking for assistance.

“He means somebody who will help us.” Red said simply.

“Oh.” Yellow’s face paled, and he set down his fork. The pancake was half-finished. “Like a doctor?”

“No, no!” Duck hastily assured him. “Don’t worry, they aren’t like doctors. They won’t poke and prod at you or have those pictures that you don’t like.”

Yellow nodded, though he still seemed uneasy. Duck reached over to grab his hand. “Don’t worry, I’ll be with you! We can even do it together, if you’d like. It might even be better that way.”

“Will Red come, too?”

Red froze as the two of them looked at him expectantly. For some reason, it was harder to say no to Yellow’s fearful, wide eyes, so full of broken innocence that spoke to him all too well. The eyes were familiar but different - so much like Roy but so much kinder, softer.

“I’ll…” He hesitated, running a hand through his shaggy red mane. “I’ll think about it.”

Yellow didn’t say anything. He stared blankly down at his plate, his expression utterly unreadable. Duck squeezed his hand soothingly.

“See? There’s nothing to be afraid of.” he whispered. Yellow remained unresponsive.

“...I’m going to go take my shower now.” he finally said, slowly standing up. His unfinished breakfast, now cold, sat solemnly on his plate, soaking up the remains of the syrup.

For a while, Red and Duck sat there, finishing off their food without another word. When they were all finished, Red got up to take the dishes to the sink.

“Did you mean it?” Duck suddenly piped up. “Will you really think about it?”

Red paused, ruminating over the conversation in his mind. _Had_ he meant it? Maybe. Ultimately, the thing he desired most of all was support for his friends. Perhaps if coming along helped them, he could do that. It was easy, right? He didn’t even have to participate. All he could do was drive them there and hang out in the waiting room for a while.

“Sure,” he confirmed, “but I’m only doing this for you. I don’t feel comfortable talking to a therapist myself, but if you guys want to, I’ll help in any way I can.”

For some reason, Duck frowned. “You don’t have to be so selfless, old chap. I understand your discomfort, but if there’s anything _we_ can do-”

“It’s fine.” Red interrupted. “I don’t need anything.”

And it was true. At least, that was what he told himself. He was okay. He could handle this on his own. Right now, all that mattered was helping his friends. It was the least he could do. As long as they were free, as long as they had a brand new chance at life waiting for them on the horizon, he would keep them safe. He had to keep them safe.

“...If you say so.” Duck replied, finally standing up. He approached the sink, patted Red on the arm, and walked away.

Yes, Red decided, he would go, but he would do it for them. They deserved it much more than he did. He had searched for days, weeks, months on end to find them, and now that they were all together again, he would do anything to protect their little family.

He was fine. He could do this, all by himself.

...Right?

**Author's Note:**

> at first i was like "lets make this series of oneshots about post-canon dhmis" but now i think i actually have a set path in mind??? anyway here ya go, dont worry everythings gonna be juuuuuust fine i swear, 100%, im Totally Telling The Truth Right Now


End file.
